


one more

by emilycmbl



Category: Starlight Brigade, TWRP | Tupper Ware Remix Party (Band)
Genre: Character Death, Gen, Very Me to go and write a fic abt a character we dont even know exists, but not like. graphic?, idk how to tag this aaa, whenever the backstory is left up in the air...My Canon Now
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-27
Updated: 2019-05-27
Packaged: 2020-03-19 23:59:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18981028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emilycmbl/pseuds/emilycmbl
Summary: In the far off reaches of the galaxy, there was a planet, unremarkable both in person and in her memory. And there, in her final dying moments, she thought of the family she left behind; the child she never knew.~so like, where did strive's ship come from?





	one more

**Author's Note:**

> there very well may be an answer as to where strive's ship crash landed out of, but me being me, i haven't checked to see if the artists/band has said anything on the subject and went ahead and made it all Connected™ to strive's backstory and added in unnecessary family ties, so if you're into sad mum hours, then, enjoy!
> 
> EDIT: so there IS an answer to what tf strive's ship is and [i went and found it](https://king--gary.tumblr.com/post/185172908202/one-more-emilycmbl-twrp-tupper-ware-remix) after taking 0.2 seconds to actually go back and watch the video. but. i already wrote this so...just don't @ me okay I Know

She had left everyone behind, and that was what plagued her to the very end.

At the start, she’d tried to justify it. The incoming war was something she knew would wreak unimaginable havoc across more lives than just her own — she was immovable in her decision to fight for what was right. And perhaps that’s what was her undoing: her stubbornness, her unwillingness to see any decision expect for hers as being the right one. Those she loved begged her to stay; she believed she could see past them.

Any flimsy justifications on her end were quickly becoming undone before her eyes. The enemy ships had caught her off-guard, and she cursed herself for not listening to her commander’s orders to stand her ground and hold back. The wing of her ship took another hit, and she cried out in pain.

She had forged the damned thing with her own two hands. All that love, all that time and effort, poured out relentlessly for this craft of war had left the ship bonded closer to her than any other living thing. When it took damage, so too did she. She’d like to say it was a way to wear her heart on her sleeve, but really, it only served as another barrier she put up around herself. Again, it took a hit, and again, she thought: _what a stupid way to die._

She wasn’t in the right this time, nor was she sure that she ever had been. She’d been warned that this was a losing fight.

She could hear his voice now — her lover, her partner — warning her of the dangers, _begging_ her to not go fight. To stay with him away from all the misery and chaos, to live a life on their home planet where they could settle down and raise a family.

That’s right. A family. She had a family.

With the enemy ships closing in on her, she confessed her sins: she couldn’t remember her child’s face. Even her partner’s voice had become foggy, distant, generic — all those years of love amounting to nothing in her final moments. How could she have done this?

Briefly her mind flashed to her military accomplishments — awards, praise, medals, all for her achievements, her triumphs, her killings. What good was there in even taking pride in all that if she had no one to share it with — better yet, what good was all that if she was going to die here, alone, foolish and pathetic?

Another hit. She was starting to see stars.

Her family (could she even call them that?) would never see her return, and they’d never get the life that her partner had wanted. She supposed this death was some sort of comeuppance; a deserved fate for all her wrong choices.

Her child would be near grown by now, she realised. She wondered what they were like — had they resembled her growing up, did they take after their father? Was there an adventurous fight running through her bloodline? Would they make the same mistakes that she had? These questions were all in vain, she knew, and as her ship continued to get beaten down she cried out in a different kind of pain — the torture, the heartache of confronting her wrongs, powerless to undo them.

It was all her fault. All her fault. Her fault, her fault, her fault.

Incoherently, she muttered to herself, over and over again, allowing herself for just a second to bask in self-hatred.

She could feel her life force slipping away as her will to live slowly diminished. She never imagined how it would feel to die — never thought she would have to — but it was a sort of fading, a dimming of her light as the space she took up in the universe slowly began to wash away.

Her ship, bonded to her in life, took her in with open arms. Now in near death, her only comfort was not of those who loved her, not of the life she once knew, but of the cold, hard barrier she had built up around her, finally claiming her in her final moments.

What a stupid, stupid way to die.

And again, her life flashed before her. Her childhood, her parents, siblings, cousins, aunts and uncles, all memories of a distant past that she could no longer lay claim to. Her partner. Her child.

_Her child._

And suddenly, like she was hit with a bolt of lightning, a surge of hope rushed through her. Determination and ambition swirled throughout her body and in her eleventh hour she stared down death and refused to go quietly in a way that did not matter.

The enemy ships had won by now, they all knew this. She was dying, and had nowhere to go. She had failed. But that was no excuse for her to wallow in self-pity and accept this death when she knew there was still something she could do. So, yeah, she’d made some mistakes. Horrible wrongdoings that she was sure could never be forgiven — but she had paved that fate for herself, and she would gladly take the blame. And now, she had another choice to make. Would the fight for the future end here, or could she keep the fire burning?

She had failed miserably, and all her rights and wrongs meant nothing now. But there was some light in the future. Her ship, her deathbed, could hold the key for the fight to be won. It was her flesh and blood.

As she lay dying, she thought of her child — no memories, no particular feelings attached, just the presence and idea of her own blood living in the world. They could continue the fight.

The ship was more of her child than her actual offspring was, and she wondered if that would make things easier for the two to bond in any way. Probably not, but she pushed on with the thought regardless.

She had not succeeded. But — the child — they could do better than she had, or so she hoped. She begged.

It was hard to stay on one line of coherent thoughts. The ship _could_ respond to them, yes, but was that what she really wanted? To put another soldier into battle, with what could very well end up in another meaningless death? To effectively kill own her child?

They _had_ to do better than she did. She was always one to be brave, but there was an awful boldness in her now to put so much pressure on a child she had never known or loved. How terrible was she that she asked this of them?

She didn’t know what else to do. What a sorry excuse for a soldier. She couldn’t even bring herself to call herself a mother.

The lights of her ship had all but faded by now, or perhaps her eyes could no longer bring themselves to let her see the light of life. Nevertheless, in the darkness, she thought of the last place she had truly called home: a planet in the far off reaches of the galaxy, unremarkable both in person and in her memory — even the name slipped her mind now. Her ship knew of the place well, likely better than she had, having been forged there, and set a course for the planet despite its damage. She soothed the ship as best as she could; her death would give the engine the fuel it needed to go on.

All she needed was for the ship to find her child, and for her child to take up the task. And if they rejected each other, then fine. Her machine could lay as a monument to all her mistakes.

She had committed so many unforgivable wrongs across her life — and all she needed to do now was commit just one more.

Her ship understood what she asked of it.

Her dying breath was an apology.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading!! honestly twrp owns my ass and this absolute banger of a music vid has just cemented it. when's the netflix series am i right? haha (please i am so desperate ;~;)
> 
> check me out on tumblr @ [king--gary.tumblr.com](https://king--gary.tumblr.com/)


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